


Future Little Florist

by IceCreamKing



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Rating May Change, The teen rating is for cursing honestly, florist and tattoo artist au, it may change later depending on where this story goes, may be smut later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-02-03 12:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12748494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceCreamKing/pseuds/IceCreamKing
Summary: Carl owns a successful flower shop at the young age of 22. He hears about a new guy moving into the store across the street. Who knew that this guy would be both undeniably attractive and annoying as hell.





	1. The Day We Met

The blistering sun felt scorching on Carl's back as he carried a large, heavy, ceramic pot in his soil-stained hands. He felt the soil from the top seeming to spill out onto his used viridian apron. Oh well, that's what the apron was for anyways. 

The young man placed the pot down right in front of the shop for both advertisement and the sunlight the flowering plant needed. The brunette then turned to look at his store with pride in his stance. He placed his hands on his thin hips as he admired the colorful floral paintings on the door which his friend Enid had done. His eyes glided over to the logo which he admired. His friend Beth had helped him design it. It read "Grimes' Flowers." Simple and odd, but Carl liked it. He'd placed many different species of plants and flowers in the window and outside. It looked lively and downright beautiful.

He smiled to himself. His parents were against the idea of him trying to run a shop since the beginning. Especially a floral shop. They didn't suspect it would work out. But here he was, age 22 and he had his own successful shop up and running. Carl had taken some business classes after graduating high school, and some classes about plant-life. He'd became interesting in floral life after one of his dad's friends had given him a Cherokee Rose when he was younger. He'd explained to him about its significance and Carl was fascinated. The interest stemmed from there. 

The boy had set out to own a flower shop and heck, he did it. He'd had his shop for almost a year now. He was proud of his accomplishments thus far. He was a successful young man and he honestly would be happy if he grew old with this store. He'd customized it so much from the dingey run-down building it was. 

The brunette was pulled out of his daydreaming as he heard some commotion from across the street. Carl cocked his head as he turned to look. The sight of a moving truck had gotten Carl's brain to click. He'd forgotten that he'd been told someone bought the shop across the street from his. Currently, from what he could see he saw a cardboard box on its' side, and the voice of a man yelling caused him to jump.

"Pick that shit up! Goddamn. Don't break my shit." Carl couldn't see who was speaking, but he assumed it was the new neighbor. He gulped. The voice sounded like an angry old man. Agh.

Carl retreated to inside of his store where he closed the door with a contemplating expression. He felt the sense of impending doom about the idea that an old cranky man lived across the street. His curiosity still gnawed at him though. The buildings in this area were small shops designed with one-bedroom apartments upstairs. They were unfurnished but definitely useable. Carl stayed at his shop. He liked his simple life honestly. He was curious as to what the man was planning on opening. Maybe it was a barbershop. Eh. 

Carl tugged on his ponytail to tighten it as he shook his head. It was time to get back to work.  
\---------  
It had been a couple of days since then, and the moving truck was gone. The store still looked closed though, but Carl could tell someone was inside by glancing out his window and seeing the lights inside illuminating the curtains. 

So now, here Carl was. He stood in front of the closed shop door with a box of cookies in his hands that he'd made. He'd became quite the cook living by himself. Carl had talked to Enid on the phone about this potentially scary new guy, and she encouraged him to make a good first impression. Cookies seemed good right? Old people loved cookies. Or something.

Carl took a deep breath before awkwardly knocking on the glass door. It was hard to see inside with the half-broken blinds, but the lights were on and he could hear movement, so he knew someone had to be in there.

He jumped as he heard the familiar deep voice yell, "Come in!"

Carl felt awkward as he reached over to open up the door and he let himself in. He closed the door behind him and turned around to take the place in. There were cardboard boxes stacked up, and it was obvious things were still being moved in, but it was exceptionally nice. The room was decorated with what seemed like hand-drawn framed designs. Carl could tell that the walls had been painted a beautiful cherry red, since the store had been plain white before. The store was filled with furniture. In the front corner there seemed to be a waiting spot set up. Multiple black chairs and couches sat, with a glass coffee table in the middle holding a large binder that was labeled, "Portfolio."

Next to this area there was a black bookshelf decorated with neat little statues and centerpieces. There was a dragon statue, crystals, a Buddha statue, you name it. It was just aesthetically pleasing to look at. There was an area further back that was sectioned off with folded out dividers that had Japanese-like designs on it of cherry blossoms and nature. The whole room had something to look at in every corner. It was pretty extravagant.

"Hey there kiddo." 

Carl turned as he heard the voice, and he had to do a double take as he saw who it belonged to.

Carl's image of a grumpy old geezer was completely shattered as this guy, who was literally the definition of beauty, stood in front of him. 

The man was much taller than Carl, though Carl wasn't really that tall in general, this man seemed exceptionally tall. So this just made Carl feel even shorter. The man held a box in his large hands, his tanned skin covered with tattoos. Carl noted that he wore tight, dark jeans and a tight v-neck shirt. He had two full tattoo sleeves on his arms and tattoos peeking out from his toned chest. His whole body was muscular but also lean, it was a nice combo.

Carl's eyes trailed up to his face. The man had a bit of stubble which was a combo of dark and gray hair. His hair was similar, though a bit darker, and slicked back. His eyebrows looked thick and masculine which were just the topping to his hazel eyes. His eyes had a spark to them that matched his upturned lips. He was smiling but also seeming to smirk. All in all, he was gorgeous. 

"Want to take a fuckin' picture? It'll last longer." The man spoke again with a hearty chuckle. Carl felt a weird sense of embarrassment, he probably looked pretty weird just staring at him for so long. "Sorry." He apologized as he licked his dry lips.

Carl suddenly felt overly conscious about his own appearance. He'd dressed in his usual plain style. Jeans, heavy combat boots, a t-shirt with a random reference, and a flannel overtop which he left unbuttoned. He'd left his chocolately brown hair down which cascaded across his shoulders and back. He was suddenly aware of how, just, /plain/ he was. 

Carl gulped a growing lump of nervousness in his throat as he held up the box of forgotten cookies in his hands. "I-I brought cookies. I uhm, own the store across the street. The floral shop." 

The man raised his brows in surprise. "Waaaaiittt, what? Are you shittin' on me right now?" 

Carl was thrown off by this man's way of talking. It was like he just said whatever he wanted without a care. The brunette looked confused. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"You look like you're fuckin' 15 kid, you can't own a store." The man laughed again with amusement. 

Carl felt a rising heat towards his cheeks as he shook his head. "N-No! I'm 22!"

"22? You mean this little puny kid can legally drink? Well I'll be damned." 

Carl could tell the man was teasing him, and it both embarrassed him and mildly annoyed him. "Well how old are you?" He shot back with a bit of hostility. 

"I wanna keep you guessin', so I won't say." Carl watched as the friendly smile was a full smirk now, and the man winked at him which almost made Carl's heart shut down because holy shit this man was annoying but so attractive.

"What's your name kid?" At this point the man put the box he'd been holding down on the ground, and he walked over to Carl to accept the cookies. He casually opened the box in front of him and pulled one out to munch on. "Mm, damn, this shit's good."

"Uhm, my name's Carl." Carl said in a bit of a murmur as he looked away. This man held an intimidating aura to him which both excited Carl but also made him feel timid. The boy looked back up though with newfound determination. "What's your name?"

"Me? My name is Negan. Nice to fuckin' meet you sweetheart."


	2. The Tension Between Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan is a cheeky little shit.   
> So is Carl.

Carl let out a heavy sigh as he flopped his exhausted body back on his bed. He stared up at his ceiling, his arm resting against his forehead as though he had a headache. He definitely felt a mild one coming on. He rolled over onto his stomach and pulled out his phone, his eyes gazing down at the new contact that had been put there just moments ago. 

'Negan.' It simply read. Carl didn't know his last name. He didn't tell him.   
His thoughts went back to what had proceeded earlier that day....  
\------  
"Me? My name is Negan. Nice to fuckin' meet you sweetheart." 

After Carl had heard those words he felt a sense of discomfort settling in. This man was too charismatic. Too flirtatious. He just oozed infinite confidence every time he flashed those pearly white teeth of his. It was definitely the polar opposite of his own reserved and maladroit personality. He felt taken aback, he was uncertain of what to say to this man. 

Negan however, didn't look as though he cared. He seemed to like attention anyways-and probably just hearing his own voice, because he started talking before Carl could even formulate a response to give him.

"Take a seat, I ain't no one to worry about...well, maybe." He had a gleeful-like smirk on his face. Carl couldn't tell if he was sounding happy or mischievous. His tone carried a mixture of both, constantly. 

Carl looked around as he decided to go over and sit at the waiting-like area with the chairs and couches. He chose to sit at one of the leather couches, which dumbfounded him. Was this guy rich? He had to be to be able to afford all of this. 

Carl glanced up to see Negan had walked off to put the box he'd been carrying away. The brunette looked back down immediately to the binder he'd seen earlier, labeled 'portfolio.' 

Carl had uncontrollable curiosity. His hands immediately moved to pick it up and he cracked it open. His blue eyes widened with further surprise. The book was chocked full of various artwork. Most were inked in with a pen. The first page he'd opened displayed detailed roses. As he flipped through it he came across many designs. Most were in black and were fairly geometric looking. Some looked more realistic with intense shading. Things began to piece together as he flipped through the pages of designs with interest. 

"Like what you see?"

Carl almost jumped out of his seat as a voice came from behind him. He turned his head sharply, and was /this/ close to accidentally smacking his head into Negan's, who was leaning forwards over the couch and he appeared to be peering over Carl's shoulder. 

"You scared the shit out of me!" Carl exclaimed with both anger and embarrassment from being spooked so easily. The response from the man was a hearty laugh.

"Goddamn, watch your mouth kid. You're too little to fucking curse." Negan spoke in a teasing manner. He quickly continued on though before Carl could even have input, "So, like anything specific? Well, I can't really see you with a tattoo though. I still don't believe your age 'till I see some ID."  
More teasing.

Carl huffed as he shut the binder and sat it back down on the coffee table. He noticed his cookies sat there as well. Negan must've placed them there without him noticing. A couple were already missing. He felt secretly proud that his cooking was that good. He always did get compliments, but only from family and friends.

He sat back as he spoke, his voice carrying a sense of vexation, "I think my parents would kill me if I got a tattoo. And for your information I /am/ 22." Carl dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He made it a point to show Negan his drivers license.

Negan peered at the license with squinted eyes as he walked around the couch to sit across from Carl, the coffee table sat between them. He let out a low whistle. "Huh, alright alright, I believe you. But still, you listen to mommy and daddy at your age?" The man smirked at him. Carl was finding this to be a common pattern. Negan would say something he found witty or funny and would grin that shit-eating grin like he was the best comedian on Earth.   
It was annoying.  
But he was also just so goddamn charming. It was extremely confusing to the poor brunette. 

Carl couldn't help but glare at Negan, his brows tightly knitted, "Well, I don't really want a tattoo anyways." He shrugged as he forced himself to look away from Negan. "So you're a tattoo artist?"

"How'd you ever guess?" Negan joked as he abruptly stood up. He swung his arms in the air in a splendiferous manner, seeming to demand attention. Carl found this amusing, considering he was the only other person in the room. Maybe this was just Negan's normal personality.  
If so, it was mentally exhausting to be around. 

"Welcome to my humble abode. I'll be opening up for business soon. I've been tattooing for over 20 years." He bragged with a sense of self-importance. Carl watched as Negan maintained eye contact with him. 

"Wow, that's pretty much my whole life." Carl said this with mild sassiness, wanting to throw back some punches about Negan's age himself.

Negan raised his brows. His smug look remained constant as he leaned towards Carl, the corner of his lips upturned mischievously. "I suppose that means I have fuckin' superiority over you huh? Since I'm soooo much older." He stressed jokingly before adding, "So what about you? Tell me about yourself."

Negan had returned to his seat at this point and Carl let out a sigh of relief. Maybe they could attempt to have a normal conversation. So far it had been pretty odd. "Well, like I said I'm 22. I moved out of my parents house after taking college classes and opened up shop over there." He pointed across the street. "Erm, as I said earlier I own the floral shop-"

"Oh damn, that's just simply /adorable/." 

Carl was taken off-guard once more by Negan's seductive way of speaking. He slowly felt the blood rush to his face at the weird compliment. Was it even a compliment? It sounded condescending but it made Carl's heart jump all the same.  
Carl wasn't necessarily used to being complimented. He was mostly reserved in school, and after figuring out his sexuality he became even more reclusive. He'd felt embarrassed about it throughout school, and kept it under wraps. As an adult now, he still felt self conscious and awkward. He was constantly in an odd teenage-like phase while trying to discover and piece together his identity as a person. 

The brunette moved to stand. "U-Uhm, it's getting late." He said suddenly, which was true. "I should get back....er, gotta get to sleep." He avoided eye contact by using his hair as a shield. It was his go-to hiding mechanism when he felt sheepish. 

He focused his line of sight at Negan's feet as he saw the other standing up in front of him. He heard the deep, hearty chuckle. That rich, baritone laugh that gave him shivers.  
"Bed already? Guess kids do need an early bedtime." 

Carl seethed. He was still going on about teasing him? When would this man stop?   
He was about to turn to head towards the door until he flinched from sudden contact. He felt a hand on his head, and Carl slowly looked up at Negan who'd touched him.

He absorbed the warmth radiating from Negan's hand as the hand gently brushed against his burning cheek. His hair was tenderly pushed out of his face, and the large yet gentle fingers tucked it behind his small ear.

"You should pull this shit back, it's hidin' that cute little face of yours, you know?" 

Carl could hear his heart thumping in his ears. How in the world did this man go from excruciatingly annoying one minute, to making him turn into a flustered highschool girl the next?

"Y-Yeah." Carl croaked out lamely. He mentally smacked himself. He couldn't think of what to say. He just stared at Negan, looking dumbfounded.

Negan was thoughtful for a moment before asking, "You have a phone right? Let me see it."

Carl didn't really think twice about obeying. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, which he passed to Negan.

Negan turned away and went over to a shelf where he grabbed a pair of glasses. Carl watched as he slipped them on-he assumed reading glasses now-and the man seemed to be typing in his phone.

Carl felt confused, until Negan handed him his phone back. He slowly looked down to the screen. It showed the name 'Negan' up top, and his number right below his name. He'd added himself as a contact.

"Just thought I'd give you my number."

Carl looked back up to Negan to catch his swift wink. He flushed as he looked away and quickly shoved his phone back in his pocket. "Th-Thanks." 

He stood awkwardly for another moment before turning and heading to the door. 

"It was nice to meet you Carl. I hope to see you soon, sweetheart." He heard Negan call after him.

"U-Uhm it was nice meeting you too." Carl spoke, his voice cracking as he quickly left the shop without looking back. He'd practically jogged across the street to his shop.   
Which, brings us back to now...

Carl decided to call Enid. He really needed someone to chat about this whole situation with. He held his phone to his ear and heard about two rings before Enid picked up on the other end. "Hey Carl! What's up? Did you see that old guy today?" She asked with a cheery voice. 

Carl sat up in his bed as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Yep. Well, he's not really an old man....at least, not the typical one."

"So he was nice?" She asked.

"I wouldn't say that." Carl responded in a thoughtful manner. "Hmm, how should I say this....well, he's a tattoo artist. And....he's kinda hot."

"Ooooh, now we're talking." She giggled over the line. "So he's not an old fart? What's he look like?"

"He looks like he's probably in his forties, but he looks like, really good." Carl tried to explain. "I don't have a picture, but he has tons of tattoos and is really tall-ah and he gave me his number."

"Carl! He's totally into you then." He heard the excitement in her voice. 

"What?" Carl frowned, his face feeling hot again. He moved to grab a hairbrush off of his bedside counter and he set his phone on speaker before placing it down on his bed. He began brushing his hair. "How do I even know if he's gay though? He looked like a really cool guy. Like a playboy or something." 

"Well you gotta make a move, or see if he'll make one. If he does, he's totally into you." Enid spoke convincingly.

"I guess....well, how was your day?" Carl changed topics. The two then spoke for awhile on the phone together. Carl had been good friends with Enid since highschool, and they got along together perfectly. They could talk endlessly about anything. Carl had always related to her, and he admired Enid's honest and imperturbable personality. 

"It's getting late, I gotta go to bed." Enid informed later on in their conversing, which was accompanied by a yawn.

"Alright, goodnight Enid." Carl said. She also wished him goodnight in return and Carl hung up. The young man moved to stand. After taking a quick shower, the boy laid in his bed in pajamas, scrolling lazily through social media as one does before sleeping.

'Maybe....I should text Negan. So he has my number too...' Carl decided. He typed out a text, and then immediately hit the backspace key on his phone. He did this multiple times before settling on a text.

"Hey, this is Carl, from the flower shop." 

It was an extremely simple and boring text. After Carl had sent it, he got an immediate response.

"Well hey there darling, thanks for texting me ;)" 

Carl had to hold back a laugh. He used a fucking emoticon. It was so nerdy coming from Negan. It was like he was trying to act younger than his age. 

After a moment, another text came in.

"Want to meet up sometime sugar? How about at Greene's Cafe on Sunday? ;D"

Carl spied another pattern. This man loved using petnames. And it got Carl's heart to racing. He wasn't used to such affectionate petnames, it made his heart wanting to break out of his ribcage from excitement. 

"Sure, that sounds good. I close on Sunday's. Want to meet up at lunchtime?" Carl sent back, his fingers shaky with nervousness. 

"Sounds wonderful. Can't wait to see you there beautiful ;)" 

Carl chuckled some. He actually felt quiet eager to meet-up. Negan was a weird guy, but he also just...had something about him. Something interesting. Carl wasn't blind. He could see the flirtatious meanings behind Negan's texts. Enid was right. 

It was Friday, so meeting up with Negan was practically just a day away. He smiled to himself as he held his phone to his chest.

Carl had a date.


	3. The First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl gets to go on his date with Negan, but it doesn’t exactly go as planned.

Carl spent all of Saturday working. He was typically most busy on Friday's and Saturday's. People liked to pick up flowers for dates on the weekends. His job was more than just handing people flowers though. The public always asked for advice. Lucky for them, Carl had the whole handbook of floral works engraved into his brain. He knew exactly what type of flower people needed for their loved ones. Whether it came to a girlfriend, parent, child, you name it. Of course, there was always his regular customers-typically older women-that liked to get flowers for their gardens. He didn't mind chatting with them either. Carl almost never got rude customers, and he was thankful for that.

After the long, excruciatingly sluggish day was over, Carl counted the money he'd made, ate a quick dinner of mac and cheese, and was off to bed. Unfortunately for him, he was too excited for the next day to get to sleep easily. He couldn't stop tossing and turning in bed, thinking about the day to come. He eventually was able to doze off until the next morning, but only for a short couple of hours. 

Of course, soon enough the time to leave had arrived and Carl was standing at his shop door, currently locking up. He gulped down a rising lump in his throat caused by anxiety. Carl looked down at himself as though to assess his looks, and made sure his outfit was free of any lint or dirt. 

He wore a gray, striped, short-sleeved button-up shirt which he'd buttoned all the way up, along with some black skinny jeans and his normal black converse shoes. He'd texted Enid and Beth about what to wear in their group chat, and they'd eventually settled on this after some long debating. Carl didn't own much formal wear, he always wore flannels and t-shirts, so this was a step up for him. He had his hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, since he'd recalled Negan telling him to 'pull that shit back.'

Of course Carl also had a small bouquet of flowers in his hands. It was cheesy, but he owned a flower shop, so why not? He'd taken extra care on grooming the flowers to a presentably perfect state. 

Every step Carl took towards the cafe felt like they were being pulled down, as though his feet were sinking into the cement. To say he was nervous was an understatement. Carl was sweating bullets. And it wasn't just from the sweltering weather either. 

Once Carl arrived at the small cafe, he was greeted with the smell of coffee and freshly baked foods. 

"Carl! I haven't seen you in awhile." 

He looked towards the owner of the sweet voice. A cheerful, brunette woman with twinkling forest green eyes stood at the counter. Carl walked up towards her with a smile. "Hey Maggie. How are you?" He asked politely. 

"I'm doin' good. Glenn's at home takin' care of little Hershel right now. He's almost old enough for school." She spoke in an upbeat manner. Carl couldn't help but feel relaxed merely from her kind presence. "That's good to hear."

Carl had came to know Maggie and her husband Glenn from becoming acquainted with Beth, who was her younger sister. The Greene's were always exceptionally sweet, and although Maggie was 'Rhee' now, she had kept the Greene name in the family cafe after her father had passed away. She also kept his name alive by passing it along to her son. 

Maggie gestured for Carl to come closer and the younger raised a brow as he leaned in, offering her an ear.

"Beth told me 'bout that guy." She whispered. Carl felt his face heat up, but he was also wondering why she was acting so secretive.

Maggie gestured to the other side of the cafe as though to answer his unspoken quetion. Carl's heart fluttered. There Negan sat in a stool at a small table meant for two. He was sipping coffee and sitting on the table was a notebook of some sort. Carl couldn't see it from here, but it looked like Negan was either writing or drawing. His sapphire eyes danced across Negan's body to observe his looks.

The older man wore some dark jeans, and a deep, wine red v-neck shirt. A thick golden watch sat on his wrist, along with what seemed like a crystal necklace on his neck. His hair was slicked back, and it looked like he'd trimmed his beard since the last time Carl had seen him.

His breath was taken away by staring at him. 

"He's definitely a looker." Maggie giggled. 

Carl snapped back into reality as he realized he'd been staring. Apparently he'd been staring long enough for Maggie to come back with his usual frappe he regularly ordered. Before he could dig into his pocket for payment, the older woman shook her head. "It's on the house."

Carl smiled at her. "Thanks."

"Now go get 'im." Maggie grinned, her grin lighting up the room. The Greene family was always able to alleviate Carl's worries just by talking to them.

With a nod Carl took his frappe in his free hand and he turned and walked over to the table. Negan seemed so immersed in what he was doing that he didn't look up until Carl had came closer.

The older man's face lit up immediately at his arrival. 

Carl's stomach did a somersault.

"Well hey there, nice to grace me with your presence." Negan greeted him, the corners of his lips upturned as he'd quickly closed his notebook before Carl could take a look at it. 

Carl raised a brow curiously as he put his things down on the table, and he took a seat in front of the other.

"You're the one here early." The brunette shot back with a shrug.

"You're early too." Negan pointed out.

"....touché." 

It was half an hour before their agreed meeting time. Carl didn't want to say how eager he'd been, but at the same time it seemed Negan must've been eager as well to get here so early. He felt the sheepishness fill the air from both him and maybe a little from Negan too. 

"You look pretty fuckin' adorable today."

As the other finally broke the silence, Carl almost choked on his coffee. He put the cup down and cleared his throat to avoid coughing. He looked off to the side with disconcertion. 

The crystal clear, honey-dipped laugh that he heard caused Carl to perk up immediately towards the source. Negan's lips were drawn back into an open-mouthed laugh, his teeth pearly, white, and literally perfect. His hazel eyes crinkled with laugh lines, and that laugh that came out, oh god, that laugh. His laughter danced through the air like a melody. A melody Carl would listen to on repeat.

Despite loving the sound of the older man's laughter, the brunette just felt a wave of embarrassment crash down on him from his lack of flirting experience. What was he supposed to say? Thank you? Probably, that sounded right.

"Thanks, uhm, I brought you some flowers from my shop by the way." He brought up as he grabbed the small bouquet off of the table and he held it out to Negan who had calmed down from his previous laughing fit.

The older man raised his brows with a surprised expression as he accepted the flowers. Carl watched him anxiously as he brought them up to his nose to sniff with another dancing smile. "You got me roses and violets Carl?"

Carl frowned a bit. He wondered if he did something wrong. "Yeah? I saw rose drawings in that book of yours and typically they make good presents-"

"No no, I don't want some bullshit technical answer." Negan shook his head like Carl was supposed to be selecting the correct answer on a quiz show. "I mean, /why/ did you give /me/ these types of flowers? You're a florist right? You should know what flowers mean and shit. Tell me what they mean."

Carl could feel himself sweating bullets, and it wasn't just from the heat outside. He knew Negan was fucking with him. This guys good looks were very deceiving. 

"Uhm....ok....well...." He took a deep breath after he'd licked his tongue across his dry lips; a bad habit of his that he did when he was nervous. "Roses mean....they mean...you're interested in someone. To kinda explain it broadly....and violets can stand for modesty-"

"Oh /wow/ baby. The roses are cute as fuck but you're gonna learn that I ain't all that modest." The smirk that accompanied this statement would've normally pissed Carl off if he wasn't so caught up by the fact Negan just called him 'baby.' 

Carl licked over his lips again as he daringly spoke back, "Well, I've already noticed that." 

A low whistle came out of Negan's lips. "And she bites back!" He exclaimed as though Carl was some sort of spectacle to behold that required unnecessary commentary. He was so loud that they were getting glances from nearby tables. Negan didn’t seem to mind one bit. 

"I'm not a girl." Carl's expression turned into an annoyed one as he picked up his coffee to gulp some down.

"I know, I know, you just fuckin' look so much like one I can't resist callin' you one. You're such a pretty boy." 

Carl almost choked on his coffee again.

Was Negan just trying to embarrass the hell out of him and give him a heart attack from all the sweet flirtatiousness coming from the both of them? 

"I-I wouldn't speak so soon, you haven't seen me at my worst yet." Carl replied smoothly without having to reject the compliment out of self consciousness. 

"Mmmm, I wonder if I'll get to see that. I wanna see that face at its worst, at its best, oh, and when it's fuckin' twisted up with pleasure~" Negan listed off very casually as he leaned over the table, almost in a predatory way. His voice had dropped a couple octaves, and luckily he was quieter than before but not by much. Carl was certain the people sitting nearby could hear them right now.

He clenched his cup tightly in his hand, trying to distract himself with the warmth it provided him. Fortunately, Carl didn't have to think about what to say back because suddenly Negan slammed his hands down on the table and dramatically stood up.

"I gotta take a piss. But afterwards, we should go hang out. Shopping, movies, I don't really give a fuck. Think about it while I'm gone." He winked with a mischievous grin before leaving the table. 

Carl released a huge sigh he didn't realize he was holding in. His heart was running a marathon while his head was battling with the idea that Negan was annoying and conceited as shit.  
The brunette ran a hand through his ponytail as he was about to check his phone to occupy his scattered brain, however something on the table caught his eye.

That book.  
The book Negan was writing in before Carl had came over and sat down.

He looked around briefly as though someone would rat him out before he pulled the book towards him. 

It wouldn't hurt to take a peek, would it?

The book was large and had a plain black cover. It was extremely worn out upon closer inspection. The cover was hardback but the corners were worn down with continuous use. 

Carl opened up to the first page, and he then realized Negan wasn't writing.  
He'd been drawing.  
The first page had some messy doodles of very random things. It looked like practice on body parts and items.  
As he started to flip through it he noticed a lot of practice sketches and designs it seemed. Some were scribbled out, some drawn in pen, while others were drawn in graphite.  
There were also more "finished" pieces he noticed that resembled the style in Negan's portfolio he'd looked at the other day. 

What made Carl's heart stop and his brow raise was the drawing he'd halted at partway into the sketchbook.

The drawing depicted a full frontal portrait of a woman. She had long light-colored hair, full lips, wide, bright eyes, and a gorgeous smile on her face. The drawing was pretty realistic, and Carl was impressed. 

But....who was this?

When he started turning more pages, they were all of her. Her in different angles. Her smiling. Laughing. Her looking embarrassed. Her in different outfits.  
It almost didn't end it seemed.  
It was laced together with other drawings that seemed a lot more complete than previous pages that had contained many frustrated looking scribbles and incomplete pieces.

It was almost like since that woman appeared in his drawings he'd became better at it.  
Carl's sharp sapphire eyes studied the next drawing of this same beautiful woman now in an immaculate wedding dress. 

A quick hand slamming down next to Carl on the table was what made his heart jump into his chest and a gasp leave his lips.  
"What the /fuck/ do you think you're doing?" 

Oh shit.

Before Carl could even regain his composure or turn around, that same hand snatched up and slammed that sketchbook closed.  
He slowly looked up at its owner with a wary expression. 

Negan was pissed.

The older man looked frantic and stressed out even. His usually bright hazel eyes were narrowed and harsh looking. His expression showed both being upset and just plain anger.

Carl was speechless. It took him a moment to actually formulate a reply.

“I-I...I-I didn’t mean-“

“I don’t care what the fuck you meant. You don’t go through peoples shit Carl.” 

Carl gulped. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He ruined everything.

Negan’s face slowly relaxed much to Carl’s relief after a moment of glaring. The older man let out a heavy sigh as he ran a hand through his hair.  
“....look, I’m sorry for snapping like that. But don’t go through my shit without asking. It pisses me off. Got it?”

Carl simply nodded in response. Holy shit, Negan could really be scary if he wanted to.

The man in question looked around, noticing they had caused a little scene. He seemed regretful about it. “Are you ready to go?”

At the change of subjects Carl stood up with another nod.

“Alright, let’s get goin’.”

Carl gathered their trash to toss away as Negan grabbed his bag that he hadn’t noticed earlier.  
The brunettes mind was swimming with thoughts.  
Shit. He must’ve ruined everything by now. There was no way this was going past the first date.  
Why did he have to look in that sketchbook?

But more importantly-why did Negan get so defensive over it?

Carl pondered on this as he followed Negan outside. Maggie was too busy with customers for him to speak to so he simply waved as he left. She’d responded with a smile and a wink.  
He wished in his head that that smile could make him feel comfortable and confident like it normally did-but right now his stomach felt like a rock was in it and he just wanted to leave. 

Once outside, Carl followed Negan through the parking lot. Oh, he must’ve drove-

“Ever rode one of these before?”

Once they stopped, Carl’s jaw dropped involuntarily.

In front of them sat a large, red motorcycle. 

Well shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have fallen victim to writer’s block! My writing has been so much slower lately and I have the habit to just write what comes to my head sporadically. I hope this chapter wasn’t too lackluster. I have vague plans for this fic though! Thank you guys so much for reading!


End file.
